


Blindly Following

by Thunder_of_Dragons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Dark Magic, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Temporary Blindness, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, no beta we die like men, past suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_of_Dragons/pseuds/Thunder_of_Dragons
Summary: When Auror Potter comes across a Dark artifact in his line of work, he is temporarily blinded as a side effect. The Ministry can't leave one of their best Aurors defenseless, and who better to assist Auror Potter than a certain blond Unspeakable?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 157





	Blindly Following

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CheekyTorah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyTorah/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, CheekyTorah!
> 
> I know it's a bit late but it's not midnight _yet,_ so I hope you enjoy this short little one-shot!

“Malfoy,” Senior Unspeakable Greengrass spoke as he peered out of his doorway and into the hall, “I need a moment of your time before you leave tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco replied, nodding to his superior.

The Department of Mysteries was the last place Draco had imagined finding employment as a young man. He’d had dreams of becoming a famed potioneer or Puddlemere United’s star Seeker when he was younger. Of course, those thoughts had vanished the moment the Dark Lord had overtaken his home, and Draco was certain he’d never find any sort of career after that.

Fortunately, the Department of Mysteries didn’t care about the War. Unspeakables needed to possess knowledge and skills, as well as a bit of raw talent, that sometimes came from working in undesirable conditions. Draco had developed the most thorough understanding of Dark artefacts and their manipulation than any Wixen before him, but it had come at a terrible price. The harrowing events of Draco’s sixth year had pushed him beyond his breaking point both mentally and emotionally, culminating in the events in the boys’ bathroom on the sixth floor. Part of him had hoped he’d bleed out on the stones, feeling his own blood cooling even as it seeped out of his chest, yet here he was eight years after the War and one of the most utilized Unspeakables in the Ministry. As much as the Wizarding World would like to pretend that Dark magic had disappeared with the Dark Lord, the reality was that Dark artefacts were still causing mayhem throughout Great Britain as people attempted to smuggle their family’s heirlooms out of their homes and into the pockets of unsuspecting Wixen.

Draco snuck through the navy blue hallway an hour later and knocked quietly on the Senior Unspeakable’s door. “You wanted to speak to me, sir?”

The door opened with a creak, and Draco slipped inside, shutting the door quietly and casting a series of higher order privacy charms on the office.

“I believe you’ve studied Auror Potter’s most recent case,” Greengrass said, sipping a cup of tea.

The broad-shouldered, graying man was reclining comfortably in his office chair, but Draco knew this would be a short, disagreeable meeting. Normally, they would share a pot of tea while comparing research notes and talking through theories with one another. However, there had been no such offer. “Yes,” Draco nodded, “there was an unfortunate incident with a cursed pair of andirons, I recall. I was called in for a consultation on the nature of the andirons and the implications of their effects on Auror Potter’s return to the field. His prognosis appears to be quite positive, and the effects of the cursed items should be only temporary.”

“That’s a succinct summary, Malfoy.” Greengrass picked up a file from his desk and handed it to Draco. “However, Auror Potter will need a 24/7 assistant to help him while he recovers from the temporary blindness inflicted upon him. Due to your extensive knowledge of Dark artefacts like these andirons, as well as your intricate prior history with Auror Potter, we’ve decided you’re the only man who can be his assistant. I have everything you need to know here, including the location of where you’ll be staying for the foreseeable future. You have an hour to prepare accordingly and then relieve the Auror who is stationed there at the moment. Good luck.”

* * *

Exactly one hour later, Draco Apparated onto the front step of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He knocked once and proceeded to open the door. Potter wouldn’t be able to make it well to the front door anyway. 

A spectre blew past Draco, slamming the front door shut behind him. A large portrait to Draco’s right began shrieking, and Draco took a step towards it to investigate.

“Potter!” he shouted. “Where are you, and why in Merlin’s name do you have a portrait of my Great-Aunt Walburga in your foyer?”

“I can’t get the bloody witch off the blasted wall, and I’m in the parlour, I think!” Draco heard from around a corner to his left. “That’s what you people call this sort of room, isn’t it? Although, I could be in an entirely different room altogether. Hale left his post around ten minutes ago, claiming he had a date with his wife he needed to get to and that you’d be here eventually anyway. I’ll be filing a report against him the moment I can see again.”

Draco rubbed his temples and headed towards the sound of the voice. He’d always said the Auror Department needed a swift kick in the arse, but nobody was likely to listen to him. Maybe they’d finally give Potter the Head Auror position one of these days and finally get things cleaned up.

“All right, I’m on my way in, Potter,” Draco called down the hall. “You lot really do need to hire some more decent Wixen for the force. I’d hate to have someone burn down the Ministry or something because one of your people felt like leaving their post early.”

Potter was lounging on a chaise in what Draco would have more aptly called a library, but he supposed this section of the room could be called a parlour. A few pieces of cream furniture were circled around a fireplace with a coffee table in the center. White sideboards framed the pale blue fireplace, and an old Black family portrait hung above the mantle. Behind it all, there stood rows upon rows of bookshelves made of ebony wood. Draco entered the room and sat in a wingback chair opposite from Potter.

“Have you had evening tea yet, Potter?” Draco asked. “What exactly do you do in the evenings before bed?”

“Err, right…” Potter mumbled, shaking his head at the ceiling. “Hale made tea. I think he even cleaned up after from the sounds of the sink running. I’d usually shower after tea, but I’m kind of exhausted after the Healers ran the whole gamut of tests on me at Mungo’s earlier. I think they cast some Cleaning Charms, too, trying to clear the residual magic and all that, so I should be able to skip that part tonight. Really, I’d just like to get to sleep if that’s all right.”

Draco bit his lip and nodded. He was feeling rather peckish himself, but food could wait until after he’d gotten Potter settled down for the night. “That’s fine,” he said. “Where to?”

“The bedroom’s on the fourth floor,” Potter said, his head tilted to face Draco. “I’m afraid that’s the only bedroom at the moment, but I think I told them to include that in the file. There’s been a resurgence of the Doxy infestation, so the other bedrooms are uninhabitable at the moment. Not to worry, though, it’s a rather large mattress.”

“I’m not worried about it, Potter,” Draco dismissed. “I’d have to stay in the same room as you regardless. Now, how are we getting you up three flights of stairs?”

“I can walk!” Potter said, sitting up and grinning. “I just need you to guide me there and to the hand rail. I handled the stairs on the way in just fine.”

* * *

After quite a bit of grumbling and one incident with Potter nearly falling down the staircase, they finally made it to the bedroom.

“Hold my hand so I can balance, Malfoy?” Potter asked as they entered the middle of the room.

“Balance?” Draco scoffed. “Why in the world would you need to balance, Potter? You’re just getting into the bed.”

“I’m not wearing my street clothes in bed.” Potter rolled his eyes. “Now, hold my hand and help me balance while I undress, will you?”

Draco wrinkled his nose but took Potter’s hand anyway. “I’m going to guide your hand to the bedpost, Potter. Then I’m going to find your pyjamas, if that’s all right. Give you a bit of privacy, eh?”

Potter shook his head. “Won’t do any good, Malfoy. I normally sleep in the buff, but I’ll leave my pants on tonight to keep this from getting awkward, yeah?”

“Thank you for the consideration,” Draco sneered. This was a job, though, and he was going to do it because he’d been told to do it. He’d been promised time off next week in exchange, and Mother had been asking him to visit her in France for ages. All he had to do was help Saint Potter through his blind spell, and he’d be able to spend a week with her, assuming he could live through the experience with Potter first.

After a bit of maneuvering, eventually Potter had removed all of his clothing aside from his black briefs. Draco helped him under the sage green duvet and awkwardly looked around. “Er, is there anything else I can do for you, Potter?”

“Could you get into bed, too?” Potter asked. “I think I’d be able to sleep better knowing that somebody is nearby while I can’t see. We don’t have to touch or anything; I just want to know you’re close.”

Sighing but knowing that Potter couldn’t see him anyway, Draco stripped to his boxers and sat on the opposite edge of the bed. “Is this close enough, Potter?”

“No, would you mind maroon-- I meant _moving_ closer?” Potter asked, his eyes looking at Draco’s chest.

“Potter.”

“Yes?”

“How did you know my boxers are maroon?” Draco asked. “How long have you been able to see for?”

Potter blushed.


End file.
